Dear Agony
by Soncnica
Summary: Growing pains… agony. Pure agony. Weechester fic, Sam is 12, Dean is 16.


**Everything I wrote in**** this fic is intentional, I have good reasons why I wrote this the way I did, so if there's anything bothering you, just review and ask and I'll explain! No problem!**

**The title is from Breaking Benjamin's song Dear Agony. I own nothing. And I'm sorry for all the grammar mistakes. **

**For Ritu!**_ hugs_

**Enjoy…**

**---**

The night was boring. It was so boring that Dean didn't know what to do with himself. Sleep was not coming, not by a long shot, his Dad was somewhere only God knows where, his brother was snoring lightly in the bed next to his, the air in the room was hot, his shirt was plastered to his chest, he was thirsty and hungry and he closed his eyes to count the sheep, but the sheep became werewolves in mere seconds and he opened his eyes again and breathed in.

Sleep was an elusive thing for him tonight.

The darkness in the room was broken slightly by the street lamp shining through the curtain. It made the room look light blue. Baby blue. Baby blue, he thought, what a weird expression. People are nuts; babies aren't blue. Sam wasn't. But then again, Sam was… is a freak, so… who's he to know?! The only baby he ever saw was Sam and Sam wasn't blue.

Dean smiled into the darkness. But Hell, so is he. Freaks. He and his brother. Him and his 12 year old brother, who's sleeping curled up on a way to big of a bed for him. Sam was nearly swallowed by the covers; even on a night like tonight, when the temperature in the room exceeded boiling point, Sam was hidden beneath the covers.

Dean smiled again. Freak.

And then sleep came. All the noises fell away from his mind and his eyes started to drop, his hands becoming heavy, his legs stopped twitching, his mind shutting down. Just one more minute and he would reach happy dream land. Just. One. More. Minute.

And that was when a sobbing sound penetrated the veil he covered himself into to fall asleep.

A sob.

The pain was unbearable.

A sniff.

His legs were on fire.

A quick breath in.

He touched his thigh and it made the pain escalate.

A hiss.

He tried to pull up his legs. Yeah, he's not gonna try that again.

A groan.

Hurts…

Sheets rustling.

He hoped he won't wake up his brother. He really didn't want Dean to see him like this. It's not like he doesn't know pain, but this… this was tearing his legs apart from the inside out. He never felt anything like it before. It made his legs twitch and he couldn't stop them from moving. But the moving didn't help any… it just made things worse.

Dean opened his eyes, turned to his left side and looked at his brother's back. It was rising up and down way too irregularly to be breathing.

Sam was crying. His freak of a little brother was crying. And the little bitch tried to hide that from him.

"Sam?"

His voice was sleep infected, slow and slurry.

The shaking of Sam's back stopped. It stopped and Dean thought that Sam stopped breathing all together.

"Sammy?"

"Hurts…" Sam's voice was teary, breaths stuck in his throat.

"Hurts? What?"

And before Dean knew it he found himself sitting on Sam's bed, trying really hard not to touch his brother, trying really hard not to panic, trying really hard to see if there's any blood anywhere on the sheet, trying really hard not to reach over and shake some answers out of his little brother.

Sam seemed fine when they went to sleep; he wasn't hungry, because they ate, he wasn't thirsty; because they have plenty of water and Sam is perfectly capable of pouring himself a glass of water, he wasn't hurt; because they were watching TV all day – Saturdays rock - and had a run, then went to the store; he wasn't sick, because… well… he would kick his ass if Sam would become sick without their Dad there. So… what then?

"Sam, where does it hurt?"

Dean was barely restraining himself from falling into a full blown panic... Sam was hurting and they were all alone and what if there's something seriously wrong with his brother? Then what?

Sam turned around then and Dean could see in that baby blue color how Sam's cheeks were wet from tears and sweat and his hands wet with snot.

"My legs…"

It was as if something was trying to rip his legs apart; muscles, skin, bones. It was like his bones were too long to stay in his skin and they were trying to find their way out any way possible.

"Your legs?"

"My thighs," Sam untangled himself from the scratchy brown blanket and raised up, supporting his weight on his elbows and looked at his thighs, "my calves hurt too."

Dean looked at Sam's legs… they were already long and boney and Dean had a nasty suspicion that they will become even longer by the time Sam hits seventeen, hell, before Sam hits thirteen.

"Bad?"

Sam nodded and wiped some more snot from his nose. Dean eww-ed: "Gross, man. Here," he handed Sam a shirt, he picked up from the floor, "wipe your nose in here, we'll wash it in the mornin'."

Sam did as told and Dean eww-ed again, but his attention was captured by little twitches of Sam's legs. Restlessness that settled in Sam's legs had only one explanation is Dean's mind, but before he could voice it out…

"What if there's something in there?" Sam whispered into the blue room.

Dean looked at his little brother. There was nothing in Sam's eyes that would indicate that he was kidding. There was only true fear flickering in the teary hazel eyes.

"What?"

"What if something crawled into me and like set up camp in my legs and it's moving now?"

Sam was working himself into a real panic attack.

"You're kiddin', right?" Dean smiled, trying to keep Sam from going too far with this… this… craziness.

"No. I mean that thing Dad killed last week… it…"

"Sam… there's nothin' crawlin' in you."

"You sure?"

"Well…"

"Dean…"

One tear slipped down Sam's cheek.

"No, there's nothing in you. Jesus, would ya relax?"

Sam bit his lip: "But it feels like there's something in there. It hurts like its eating my flesh."

"Shut up… 's just growing pains."

"Growing pains?"

"Yup."

Sam sighed and threw himself back onto the bed: "God, this is pure agony."

Dean smirked. His brother… always the overdramatic geek.

"Growing pains, dude. 's not like you're being chopped up or something."

"Sure feels like it." Sam sighed and moved his legs a little, testing the waters, but stopped when that made everything hurt even more.

Dean reached out his hands, trying to touch Sam's thighs, but Sam pulled his legs away from him with a hiss.

"Sam?"

"Don't touch me."

"Why?"

"'s gonna hurt. I touched my leg before and…"

"'m just gonna massage it, okay? 's supposed to help," Dean retreated his hands and held them out to Sam, palms up, "and I wanna get some sleep and you twistin' and turnin' 's not gonna help me do that."

"'s it gonna hurt?"

"No… 's gonna make that thing in you stop eating your flesh."

"Dean…"

"Growing pains, Sammy not a meat eating thing."

"'s Sam."

"Whatever."

Dean reached out his hands again, almost grazing Sam's thigh with his fingers when Sam flinched again.

"Sam, 's not gonna hurt."

"You sure?"

"Cross my heart and…"

"Don't," Sam whispered, "don't say that."

Another stray tear slipped down Sam's cheek.

Dean looked at Sam's legs and moved his hands slowly to Sam's right thigh and gently placed them on the warm fabric of Sam's PJ.

Sam hissed, but didn't move away. That's an improvement, Dean thought.

His Dad's words came into his mind while he was massaging Sam's legs.

Growing pains, Dean, his Dad had said, growing pains hurt like son of a bitch. Then his Dad stopped massaging his legs and pointed to Sam and said: "Your brother… he's gonna have plenty of them. He's gonna grow up to be really tall some day." Dean just smirked and hissed at that, but now… his Dad was right. Son of a bitch. Sam's gonna be taller then him one day… awesome.

He could feel bones under his palms… Sam was all bones and skin. He could feel how sweaty Sam's PJ was, he could feel little tremors run underneath Sam's skin. It was odd touching his brother like this, this was supposed to be his Dad's work, not his… his Dad should be here, explaining to Sam why his legs hurt, why he felt like there was something eating his flesh. It was supposed to be Dad doing this. It was supposed to be Mom doing this.

Dean's hands were gentle on his legs, just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of heat, to chase away the pain. It felt nice… it felt like the pain just ran away from his brother's swift motion of fingers. But then something shifted in Dean's touch that made him hiss.

"Sorry." Dean whispered and continued to massage Sam's legs.

He remembered his own growing pains and how much it hurt. It felt like his bones were gonna snap out of his skin. He slowed down his movements when his hands started to tingle and he couldn't feel his own skin anymore… he was gliding his palms over Sam's left calf for the umpteenth time when he decided it was enough.

"You good now?"

He looked up at Sam's face hoping to see Sam smiling and nodding, but all he saw was his little brother out cold… lips slightly parted, eyes closed shut, head twisted into the pillow. Sam was chasing his dreams and Dean smiled. In the baby blue hue of the light, Sam looked small and fragile. Something precious to protect, to teach.

Dean covered Sam up with the blanket, got up from the bed and returned to his own bed to chase dreams of his own.

**---**

**The End. **


End file.
